


Silver Chances

by kickstart_myheart



Category: The Breakfast Club (1985)
Genre: Adult Content, Angst, Canon Typical Content, Community: 64damn_prompts, F/M, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Sexual Content, Snippets, Vignette Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 11:09:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20705006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kickstart_myheart/pseuds/kickstart_myheart
Summary: A Bender x Claire vignette collection. [Various short unrelated themes/content.]





	Silver Chances

**Author's Note:**

> cw: light angst, suggestive themes

A door slammed shut somewhere downstairs.

The sound jolted her out of her dream, something about flaring lights and music but her vision opened into the silent indigo shades of her bedroom. She lay on her back, blinking up at the ceiling.

Her dad must've just now gotten home. Pink numbers hovered near her nightstand in the dark: 2:00 a.m.

A sigh escaped her lips. Her mom was gonna be furious and already the first whispers of dread darkened the mood of her groggy awareness. The last thing she wanted to do tomorrow. . was sit at the dining room table attempting to ignore another one of her parent's stupid, drunk arguments.

"Claire?"

Her breath skipped a beat, and she turned to her left. John gazed back at her with heavy lidded eyes, the TV flashing false iridescence across one side of his face.

She remembered last night's events: their mutual sneers, the burst of inevitable rash words and the crash into her sheets.

She relaxed back into the mattress and stretched an arm above her head, stifling a yawn. So they'd fallen asleep on accident.

His grumbling whisper held nothing but neutrality, not that John Bender would ever express anything as vulnerable as fear. "Think he'll come up here to check on the princess?"

The heated weight of his presence seeped into her side and she trailed a hand across his chest, the textured fabric of his shirt a familiar comfort. Her own skin was bare beneath the sheets but John maintained a preference for covering his scars. "No," she whispered.

He gave a slight nod and looked like he wanted to doze again. After a heartbeat's consideration she leaned over and kissed the pliant warmth of his lips, remnants of his cologne like pine lingering under her covers, the languid, aching pace of his kiss wrapping her perception back down into a haven of coiled shadow.


End file.
